


Vijay

by inslupbanana



Series: Identity [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Aromantic Malcolm Bright, Asexual Malcolm Bright, Asexuality Spectrum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inslupbanana/pseuds/inslupbanana
Summary: During their schooldays Malcolm and Vijay find themselves with a slight difference of opinion
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Vijay Chandasara
Series: Identity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034388
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Vijay

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I'm basically writing this for myself so the writing may be a little weird (and by that I mean incomprehensible) but I'm hoping the point will come across anyway.

The second time Malcolm Bright had tried to explain himself to someone it was his long-time lunchtable buddy and the only person that he could discernably call a childhood friend, Vijay. It was September 2003 and Malcolm was fifteen, coincidentally almost precisely five years past the day that Ainsley had first brought about new realisations of his future, a prospect he rarely dared consider. For tenth grade Malcolm, life was about living in the present, with his thrice-weekly therapists' visits and a constant cycle of carers looming over his shoulder there was no consideration of anything more, existence was simply a push through the pain of the now to shelter that vague hope he sometimes felt within him. This was a hope that could be found in the rarest of moments, in an innocent smile from his sister, in a rare sober song from his mother and, at times, in the peace and quiet of his and Vijay's corner table. 

They had been lumped in the same corner (in this case literally) the year before when it had been publicly discovered that both of their fathers had been arrested (though for very different offences.) Subsequently, Vijay Chandasara and Malcolm Whitly had become the kind of life-long friends that only outcast teenagers think they can be, when really they don't have much in common other than this one tragedy tying them together and so they drift away from each other in the inevitable way people who just don't have much of an interest in each other always do. Maybe, if the following incident hadn't embarrassed them so much at the time, both boys would have grown to realise that they did in fact have more in common than their traumas, and maybe years later we would've seen Malcolm-and-Vijay everywhere through the FBI and the rest of their lives, a partnership so electric that they sparked off each other at lightning speed.

However, as we are here, now, two teenagers on the precipice, with too little and too much shared we know that that is not how their lives are destined to go.

By today, Malcolm had had the chance to do a little more research on his ideas of 'marriage', though he hadn't dared broach the subject with his therapist, not when he was already on two different medications and likely at least one FBI watchlist somewhere. He knew the signs of psychopaths, sociopaths and simple sadists far more intimately than most at such a tender age - knew that any mention of an 'inability' to feel the love that others expect you to would go far beyond being thought of as weird when your father is a serial killer and everyone already looks at your with fear in their eyes. In essence, he had learnt early what every teenager in high school would come to discover in their own time, that you never make a point to estrange yourself further when you already on the bottom.

And Vijay, Vijay was in a similar position, sure his Dad was a small-time cocaine dealer and not scary, not like The Surgeon but he was equally removed from the laughter, spitefulness and teasing that seemed to be the three main components of normal teenagers. Of course, in reality, their issue was that their pretence had been publically broken before they reached those tender years and so they had already become the targets of teasing, every other pained, acne-ridden face out there singling them out to reflect an intended image out into the halls in the best defence possible, pre-emptive offence. But Malcolm didn't know that yet, all he knew was the imprints of death that graced his rooms at home and the scattered laughter that followed his footsteps elsewhere and Vijay was his best chance for someone who better understood just how broken he seemed to be in the eyes of society.

So he'd decided to go for it, an attempt to explain himself, after all, Vijay was the person most similar to him, Vijay was the one most likely to understand him and above all else, Vijay had always been a nice guy it seemed, to the extent to which he had been allowed to be by the toxic masculinity that suffocates such places. 

But, as these things often fall, it hadn't quite turned out the way he'd expected as it was Vijay who had broached the topic first, letting out an awkward pained laugh as a gaggle of girls fluttered past them, rolling their eyes.

And Malcolm had thought then that Vijay wasn't quite right either but not in the same way, in the same way that neither of them liked girls but, as Vijay opened his mouth, shy smile in place and gaze drifting between Malcolm's eyes and his lips, suddenly he knew what was about to be said, that Vijay had fallen into a societal taboo quite different and yet so alike to Malcolm's own.

"I don't like girls Malcolm... I think... I think... I actually like boys." It was a sentence far too bold to be said over cold fries and milk-on-the-point-of-turning and one that could not be taken back once uttered.

It had been a bad stumbling block in the conversation, Vijay had obviously had something on his mind and in five minutes they'd gone from disgruntled opinions of their science teacher who-used-too-much-lipstick-and-had-too-long-dresses to Vijay's quick quirk of the lips and a fallen secret he couldn't take back. 

Unfortunately for them both, Malcolm had neither the time nor the forethought to prepare a decent reply and instead all that could be heard amongst the rise and fall of background chatter and the scraping of chair legs on concrete was a quiet "Oh,", which, as we can imagine, was likely not the response a scared teenage boy was expecting.

"No, I know it's, it's not right, I know what my mama says about it, I know they'll call me names but please Malcolm, you never cared what anyone else would think." Vijay's eyes caught his own, fingers clenching uselessly in the air between them, palm tilted forward in supplication.

Malcolm's problem at that time was likely the fact that he cared too much what people thought and hid it behind a whirlwind of mania and intelligence, a defence mechanism that survived solely by shock factor alone, an avoidance of attack that would shatter under a direct hit. So he kept his head down, turned from the imprint of soft eyes, "They shouldn't call you names. I know they will but they shouldn't" he whispered.

A breath of relief, "Thank you," a weighty pause, "So does that mean..."

Having been too busy trying to hide his true self before that moment, Malcolm had never considered the other ways in which his facade would appear, "Mean what?"

"I... um... you never look at girls either, and I know none of the other guys ever really talk to you that much but they talk to me sometimes and we never talk about the same things that they do." Vijay always had been too charming for his own good, even at fifteen, he seemed to have an innate understanding of how to open people up and learn their secrets. 

Malcolm's eyes widened, "Well that's, that's just because we're the corner table club you know, they don't _get_ the same things we do so we talk about different things, we - we know there's more to life than this!" His voice cracked mightily in his rush to defend himself. 

"Do we Malcolm?" Vijay whispered, "I don't think that's what you think, I think what's really happening is that you want to come across as thinking you're better than everyone else because you're afraid they'll find out who you really are."

The epic frown Malcolm directed towards his lunch plate apparently wasn't enough to deter his friend, "Malcolm," a gentle hand nudged the tips of his fingers, "Come on Malcolm look at me, you just said it was okay! It'll be okay if you don't like girls, who am I going to tell?"

"You talk to the others," Malcolm tugged at the knot in his tie, throat feeling uncomfortably tight, "You could tell everyone really."

Apparently, that was the end of Vijay's patience for dramatics because he scoffed and drew his hands back to his knife and fork, vigorously sawing through his last remaining fry, "Well then you'd just tell them about me, I told you Malcolm, _I don't like girls_ ," he dropped his voice, "and you know what that means around here, they'll eat me alive if you tell them but you can't because then I'll tell them about you."

Malcolm flushed hot and cold all at once, "About me?" he choked.

"Just stop pretending!" All calm had been lost from Vijay's expression as the tables around them began to turn to see what was happening, "Just tell me, Malcolm, we're buddies, c'mon, you never tell me anything!"

"Okay, okay," fingernails jittering against his knees, "Just wait a second, let them stop looking, would you? "

A nod of assent, brown eyes locking onto blue and one step closer to the edge of the cliff that would doom them.

Malcolm took a deep breath and released it in a rush, stalling in a pale imitation of the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him. "You're right," he mumbled.

Vijay cocked his head, a triumphant grin beginning to spread, not yet understanding the can of worms he had decided to dig himself into, "I am?"

"Yes, you're right I don't like girls - Ah!" He held up a hand, "But Vijay, I don't like boys either, I haven't told you because you wouldn't get it but, please, listen to me," He dropped his tone, "I just don't like anyone, not in the same way that I think you do, not in the same way that everyone else does."

Under Vijay's perplexed gaze Malcolm felt as split open as the Surgeon's victims under his knife, "But that doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"You've got to like somebody!" The fury was back, not directed at anyone but borne out of the teenage frustration that a lack of understanding will bring to us all, "You can't just not like anyone, that's stupid!"

"Really?" Malcolm clenched his fists and leaned forward, "Just like we're all supposed to like girls huh? If I have to like somebody just because that's what we've always been told then why do you get to like boys? Why am I the one who's deemed more broken when you admitted it yourself, even your family couldn't stand you if they knew." 

And that was it, Vijay drew back in shock as a moment that had started out as a confession between two friends had been twisted by anger and misunderstandings in a way that seemed inconceivable to boys who had only each other.

Malcolm didn't consider that Vijay wouldn't have needed to understand him to be his friend and hadn't attempted to explain himself further, instead going on the offensive, convinced that someone else in his life was about to let him down. Meanwhile, Vijay had been hurt and confused, so sure that his only friend was lying to him about something Vijay himself had openly shared, and thus, even after the simmering emotions of that day had settled down, their friendship was jaggedly irreparable, never to be Malcolm-and-Vijay but Whitly and Chandasara stuck in the awkwardness of broken tenth-grade promises.

Neither of the two considered proper reconciliation from that awkward moment, each feeling estranged because of their identity and each feeling that the way to survive the clawing grasp of high school was separate and alone, a position where the only misunderstood secrets they could spill would be their own. However, they kept those secrets, defending each other as they defended themselves despite their shared hurts, as Vijay's father's notoriety died down and he worked his way up, never really fearing a reveal because deep down he knew they could never do that to each other, their safety lay in separation and leaving each other behind - neither truly betrayed. 

It was then that Malcolm decided he would never be able to hide himself from others the way he wanted, never be allowed to live the quiet life and continue onward, that the only way to push forward in a world that despised him so much would be to throw himself in peoples faces, to up the mania to its limit and use his trauma as a stepping block to keep himself going. They would always find out he was so different in so many ways and if nothing about him fit together as people expected it to then he would boldly show them that most eye-drawing aspect of himself to protect the others, Malcolm Bright would present his nightmare to the world so people couldn't see past the shadows and reach him, he was in too much pain to be hurt again and everyone needed to know it.

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I'm really getting very dramatic here, aren't I?  
> I hope you enjoy, maybe eventually I'll add in some of that fluff I had planned.  
> Also, I think I mixed up my spellings of things like defence and pretence but I've set my Grammarly to British English and u can't make me change it. (Sorry!)  
> Please do let me know what you think :)


End file.
